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He listened, but never saw. That was all he could do. For now.

But once the initial shock had worn off, he had sprung from the rooftop, landing on the staircase on the side of the apartment building with a loud clang before slipping off into the shadows once more, swearing to himself. Stick had always told him, “First rule of stealth is to never fall, Mattie. You do that, you’re as good as dead.” But in his rush, he’s slipped up and in turn, cause the killer to hear him.

The man twisted around, and Daredevil heard the gun whistle in the wind as it whipped through the air, slightly to the left. Leaping out of the alleyway, he slugged his baton at the man’s hand, relishing in the sickening ‘CRACK’ it made as the shooters hand broke.

The man tried to make a break for it, but Daredevil was already on him, sweeping his legs out from under him. Turning him around, he struck him. Once. Twice. Three, four, five, six times in rapid succession, but paused as he heard the sound of a police siren approach.

Throwing the man on the ground, he darted off once again, seeming to vanish into the night once more.